Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Liam

N eve was yelling and Ambrose was hurrying away, and Liam, who had no idea what the hell was going on, was standing in the living room holding Mouse Trap like a fucking idiot.

Dad was the first one to head to the bathroom to see what was going on, but Mum bustled along after him quickly. So did Riley, wearing her swimmers and a towel around her waist. Even Grandad Billy, blinking like he'd just woken up from a nap, was in the middle of the crowd when Liam finally peered down the hallway towards the bathroom.

What the hell was going on? And why the hell had Ambrose bolted like his arse was on fire?

Orhan, holding Balian on his hip, moved past Liam towards the melee.

And at that moment Neve's yelling, which had been a series of angry noises up until now, like a frustrated toddler throwing a tantrum, transformed into words. "I saw you, you liar! You fucking liar! You were kissing ! You and Ambrose were kissing!"

Liam gasped in shock, and Mouse Trap dropped to the floor, pieces scattering everywhere. The yellow plastic cage had some bounce—it ended up over by the couch. The big pink ball rolled in a lazy ellipse around Liam's feet.

"He came onto me!" Marcus said, his tone contrite and whiny.

Liam hurried out of the living room and down the hallway. He saw Marcus standing in the bathroom doorway, palms held out, and Neve and Bridget moving around him like vengeful Furies poised to attack at any moment.

Dad was standing a little way back, narrow-eyed and watchful, content to let Neve and Bridget deal with it, Liam knew, as long as it didn't turn physical. Then all bets would be off. Will Connelly had never raised a hand in anger to his kids, and Liam had no doubt that if anyone else tried it, he'd rip their spines out with his bare hands. Which would be a mercy killing at that point—because Mum?—Mum would go nuclear.

"He came onto me," Marcus repeated, his wary gaze taking in all the Connellys crowding the hallway. He took half a step back, as though realising for the first time that he was very much outnumbered, but at the same time he lifted his chin defiantly. "I mean, come on, you know I don't swing that way, Neve."

Liam's stomach twisted. He remembered Ambrose saying that maybe he should crack onto Neve's fiancé, but Liam had shot that down, hadn't he? He'd thought he had, and Ambrose had seemed to understand that Liam didn't want any of his family members hurt. And besides, weren't they past that whole arsehole-for-hire thing? Hadn't they gone from fake boyfriends to almost-real boyfriends? He'd thought Ambrose wanted it as much as he did—but he'd thought Jonah had felt the same as him once. He thought of Ambrose and the kisses, and more, that they'd shared. And maybe that made Liam a total fool— again —but he didn't think he'd fallen into bed with a liar. Or fallen in love with one.

"You're lying," he said, and Marcus's gaze fixed on him. "Ambrose wouldn't do that."

And he knew , just looking at Marcus, that it was true.

"Then where is he?" Marcus asked. "Why am I the one here explaining what happened, when he's done a runner?"

"I don't know," Liam said. He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe I'll go get him, and we can ask him, huh? Because I can't wait to hear his side."

Dad shot him a worried look. So did Mum. And Bridget and Orhan. Even Riley looked a little dubious. Wow. Ambrose really had sold the whole horrible boyfriend thing incredibly well, because while they weren't on Marcus's side, obviously, they also weren't on Ambrose's side, and there was a good chance that the entire family thought Liam was an idiot for believing Ambrose hadn't done anything wrong. Only Grandad Billy was smiling, and when Liam's gaze fell on him, he gave Liam a double thumbs-up, like Liam was six years old again and this was Saturday morning Auskick.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Marcus said, "but last week I was at dinner with a client, and I saw Ambrose. I didn't know who he was, but he was obviously on a date."

Liam's stomach clenched. "Yeah, I know. So what?"

He had the satisfaction of seeing Marcus's shocked expression.

"What client were you having dinner with?" Neve asked suddenly. "A client like Jana? Or Vicki? Or is it someone new this time?" She punched him in the chest then, obviously not liking that it had absolutely zero effect, drew her arm back for another shot. "You promised you wouldn't do it again, you lying piece of shit! "

"Babe…" Marcus blanched. "It's not like that. I can explain."

"No!" Neve yelled, her face blotchy and red. "I'm sick of your bullshit! We're over! Get the fuck out of my parents' house!"

Dad caught her arm before she landed another punch. "You heard my daughter. Get out of here."

Marcus dithered. "Babe, that ring cost a lot of money."

Neve glared at him. "Fuck you. It's mine now. I'm going to sell it for fifty bucks and a bottle of vodka."

"You'd better leave, Marcus," Dad said. "Let's not make this more awkward than it needs to be."

Translation— Don't make me punch you, because I will.

"You're making a mistake, Neve," Marcus said, but he began to move down the hallway, through the assembled Connellys. His shoulder brushed against Liam's, and his mouth turned up in a sneer. "And your boyfriend's a dirty slut, Liam."

"Takes one to know one!" Neve screamed at Marcus's retreating back.

Liam winced. He appreciated where she was coming from, but he was also really glad Ambrose hadn't heard that.

Marcus headed for Neve's bedroom, presumably to grab his bag. John Phillip growled and followed him, his claws clicking on the polished wooden floorboards.

Neve took a giant, shuddering breath. Her face crumpled, and she started sobbing, real ugly-crying with no holds barred, and Mum immediately pulled her close, squeezing her tight and making soothing noises, all the while wearing a face that showed a willingness to commit murder, if necessary.

It was Bridget who turned to Liam and said, "What did you mean about knowing Ambrose was on a date with someone else? What the hell's going on, Liam? "

Liam looked at his assembled family—his dad with arms folded over his chest, his sisters with hands on their hips like matching sugar bowls, his mum with an arm full of Neve and a face like thunder, and Grandad, who for some reason was still grinning madly—and took a deep breath. If he wanted to salvage any kind of relationship with his family—and with Ambrose—he was going to have to come clean.

"Ambrose isn't really my boyfriend."

Dad's brows drew together in confusion. "But you said he was. And he certainly acted like it!"

Liam sighed. "I hired him, Dad. When Mum was threatening to set me up with rat-faced Richard, I panicked and said I'd met someone, just so she'd stop fussing. And Ambrose, well, he's a boyfriend for hire, so I paid him to date me."

Riley's mouth fell open in an O of shock, and Orhan's eyebrows hit his hairline. In the background, John Phillip barked loudly, and the front door slammed. Marcus was gone, then.

When Mum spoke, it was in that very calm, very quiet voice laced with steel that they all dreaded, the one that meant there'd be hell to pay if someone didn't explain what was going on right this very minute. "William Patrick Connelly, did you bring a—a male prostitute into our home?"

Mum looked like she was about to have an aneurysm, and Liam quickly shook his head in denial as he hurried to explain. "No, Mum, not, um—not like that. Ambrose hires himself out as a bad date. If, say, you want your parents to stop interfering in your love life, you introduce them to Ambrose. He acts like a dickhead, and then when you break up with him, they're so happy he's out of the picture, they stop questioning your choices. My friend Kelly suggested him."

"But he was lovely at family dinner!" Mum said, almost pleading .

"That's because I asked him to be nice. I just wanted a date, so you'd get off my case, Mum. I didn't expect you'd like him so much you'd invite him for the weekend!"

Mum's face crumpled in confusion. "Get off your case? I've never pressured you to be in a relationship, Liam. I don't interfere?—"

"You do a bit though, Mum," Bridget said.

"Yeah, you really do, Mum," Riley agreed. "You're already after me about who I'm taking to the school formal."

Will wrapped a comforting arm around his wife's shoulder. "We know you just want the best, love," he soothed.

"We know it's because you want us happy," Liam said with a nod, "but it's a lot of pressure even if you don't mean it, you know? So I thought, if Ambrose came for the weekend, he could be a dick and you wouldn't like him, and then after he dumped me, I could plead heartbreak, and you'd give it a rest. I didn't mean for any of"—he waved his arms vaguely—" this to happen."

"Bollocks," Grandad said loudly, and every head swivelled to look at him. "That was never fake dating. That boy was making sheep's eyes at you every chance he got, and you were making them back."

"Um, yeah. About that," Liam said, face heating. "It sort of got…less fake? We were maybe hoping this might go somewhere. I guess that's out of the question now, though."

"Why is it out of the question?" Grandad asked. "Just because Neve's fiancé turned out to be a fecking arsewipe doesn't mean you and your boy are a lost cause. Sorry, Neve," he added, barely apologetic, "but I never liked that little tit. He's a real, what's the word, Liam? A Jimmy Fig?"

Liam laughed despite himself. "You mean a figjam, Grandad?" At his father's puzzled look, he explained, "Fuck, I'm good, just ask me. "

"That's the one! Head so far up his own arse he could see his fecking tonsils. Sorry, Neve," Grandad repeated.

Neve wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, stepping out of Mum's embrace, and Liam felt for his sister, recognised her pain, but looking at her, standing with her shoulders back and chin jutting out, he felt a flash of pride as well, and he knew she'd get through it. "It's fine, Grandad. Marcus has cheated before, but he promised he'd change, and I felt like I had to give him one more chance. But he's a bastard, and I'm not sorry he's gone." She took a deep breath and held out her left hand, fingers splayed wide. "Besides, I'm not really selling the ring for fifty bucks and a bottle of vodka. I'm selling it for five grand and spending a week in Bali."

"Good girl," Grandad said approvingly, and Neve gave him a watery smile.

"So let me get this straight. You and Ambrose weren't dating?" Mum asked.

"Not really, no," Liam said.

Mum's eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God! I put you two in the same room! I gave you the honeymoon suite! With the honeymoon basket !"

"Oh my God!" Riley said, then she let out a giggle. "There was only one bed!"

"If it makes you feel better, we didn't really use the basket," Liam said. "I mean, apart from Ambrose eating the body paint with a spoon. He said it was like upscale Nutella." Liam smiled at the memory, despite himself, but his expression sobered when he remembered the way that Ambrose had run out on him without a word.

"He's a good one, that boy of yours," Grandad said, over the sound of rolling thunder. "Now, are you going to stand here all day, or are you going to go get him and fix this? Because given the way that poor lad bolted, he probably thinks we're ready to string him up."

Liam's chest squeezed at the thought of Ambrose out there, alone in the pouring rain, walking fuck knew where and thinking fuck knew what—that Liam believed Marcus maybe? That he hated Ambrose, and they were over before they'd even started? The thought of it had Liam frozen on the spot.

"Go on, then," Grandad said, and shoved his shoulder. "He can't have gone far." It was enough to get Liam moving.

He ran for the front door, feet clattering on the hardwood, and was greeted by the sight of Ambrose's wet shoes, still sitting where he'd abandoned them earlier. Ambrose was out there barefoot . Surely that meant he couldn't have gone far? He pulled out his phone and dialled Ambrose's number, but after ringing for a while, it went to his message bank.

Liam opened the door and peered through the curtain of rain looking for any sign of Ambrose, but all he could see were grey shapes in the gloom. Maybe Ambrose had gone to the cabins? Liam shrugged on the Driza-Bone his dad always kept hanging inside the front door and grabbed an umbrella, then trudged down the swampy driveway as quickly as he dared. It took longer than he would have liked to get to their cabin, and when he got there, Ambrose was nowhere in sight.

Shit. He stood there for a minute, helpless, and wondered what the hell he was going to do next. Ambrose wouldn't have tried to walk back to town, would he? Even as he thought it though, he knew he would have, because Ambrose was exactly that impulsive. He tried calling again, and got the same recorded message assuring him that Ambrose wasn't available right now but if he'd like to leave his name and number, Ambrose would get back to him. He huffed in frustration.

He stomped back across the property in the direction of the house, only to be met by Grandad coming the other way wearing a raincoat, John Phillip plastered against one leg, and grinning from ear to ear. "Road's gone!" he said cheerfully. "Marcus called the house. His car's stuck in the ditch, and he expected us to come and pull him out."

"Really?"

"Really. Will told him to bugger off. He'll have to call a towie." Grandad's smile widened. "No sign of your boy down here?" He seemed far too cheerful for the situation, but then, Liam had forgotten how much Grandad loved a good bit of drama.

"No sign," he confirmed, "and he's not answering his phone. But if the road's out, he can't be walking that way, so where the hell did he go?" He did his best not to imagine Ambrose lying injured at the side of the road or swept away by the creek and failed utterly.

Grandad tilted his head in thought. "The dam trail, maybe?" he said. "It's higher up, and your boy's probably following the easiest path."

That made sense. The trail to the dam ran along a ridge, and it wouldn't have flooded, but it also would have stuck out like dog's balls to someone who didn't know the property and was looking for a road. Liam shaded his eyes with his hand as if that would help him see better, and he could make out the stark line of red dirt cutting across the landscape. "It's worth a try," he decided.

The sky lit up just then with sheet lightning, and Liam thought he saw, for a split second, a tiny figure moving along the road. "There he is!"

"Well then, let's go get him!" Grandad said and pulled a bunch of keys out of his pocket.

Liam's brow furrowed. "But the road's washed out. "

"Roads?" Grandad's eyes twinkled. "Who needs roads when we've got Adeline?"

Liam's eyes widened. "You don't mean?—?"

"The old girl's made for this," Grandad said. "Not like these modern cars. She'll get us there. We'll rescue your boy, you'll tell him you're still sweet on him, and your mother can stop having conniptions about your love life." He waggled the keys.

"Um." Liam appreciated the gesture, but… "She only has one seat, Grandad."

Grandad Billy waved a hand. "We'll hook up a harvest bin and you can ride in the back. Besides," he added, "it'll be…what's the word? Symbolic."

"Will it?" Liam asked doubtfully.

"Ambrose will understand. We have an understanding, he and I," Grandad assured Liam, grinning far too widely considering they were standing in the pissing rain in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Liam was reminded anew that Grandad really did love a bit of drama.

Liam hesitated. "Are you sure, Grandad? The Allis will get wet and dirty, and I know how you feel about that." Grandad normally fussed and fretted over so much as a speck of dust on his precious Allis.

Grandad huffed. "Well now, I think we can make an exception for your one true love. It'll be grand, like in one of those books your mother likes so much."

Liam didn't think anyone in his mum's bodice rippers had chased after someone on a tractor while riding in a wine bin that would probably smell faintly of fertiliser. Besides. " One true love might be a bit strong, Grandad," he said, ducking his head shyly.

"One true wants-to-be-more-than-friends, then," Grandad amended, and his grin widened .

There was another flash of lightning, enough for Liam to catch a glimpse of the distant figure. And maybe he was imagining it, but even at this distance Ambrose looked like he'd curled in on himself, and the thought of him in the pouring rain, barefoot and alone, decided him. "Let's do it."

Grandad slapped him on the back hard enough to make droplets of water fly off the surface of his Driza-Bone, and together they splashed over to the shed where the Allis was kept. Grandad drove her out carefully, and between them they hitched a grape bin to the towbar on the back and Liam clambered in, clutching his umbrella and taking a second to ditch the almost-empty manure sack that had been languishing in the corner.

"Tally ho!" Grandad Billy cried enthusiastically, and they set off down the driveway in what was possibly the world's slowest romantic pursuit. As the tractor trundled along sedately, Liam tried calling Ambrose again, but it went straight to the message bank, so he shoved his phone back in his pocket and gave it up as a bad job.

John Phillip loped along easily alongside the tractor, stopping to piss on any interesting looking posts, and Liam couldn't help but sigh. They were getting overtaken by a dog. "Are you sure this can't go any faster, Grandad?" he yelled over the noise of the motor.

"Seven miles is the recommended maximum, and seven miles is as fast as we'll go," Grandad said firmly, and Liam hadn't thought it was possible, but the tractor slowed down as they started to climb the gentle slope of the driveway, heading in the direction of the dam trail. Once they levelled out, it picked up speed again, and John Phillip had to trot to keep up, right until he made a soulful, warbling noise, and Grandad stopped the tractor long enough for them to lift him onto the back, long legs scrabbling awkwardly against the wood as they heaved him over the side. He panted happily and propped his front paws up on the edge of the bin, looking for all the world like he was navigating. Liam found himself thinking that Ambrose would get a kick out of that when he told him about it. At least, he hoped he would. He hoped Ambrose was talking to him at all. After all, he'd hardly leapt to his defence, had he? No, he'd stood there like a spare dick at a wedding, holding a game of Mouse Trap with his mouth hanging open catching flies.

John Phillip, as though sensing Liam's despondent mood, turned his huge shaggy head and gave him a slobbery kiss up the side of his face.

"Thanks, John Phillip," Liam said, and he and the dog held on to the edge of the grape bin, water sloshing around their feet, as they chugged very, very slowly up the hill.